Correction: the perfect lunch is one shared with friends who happen to be French and spend their free time buying goodies at the Brooklyn Fairway.
I visited my friend in Williamsburg yesterday, where she put out the spread of the nascent year. Two types of triple cream cheese, a toasted baguette, leftover French-cut and pan-seared chicken breast with white beans from Gemma, salami, and burrata with cherry tomatoes.
I do not know how French and Italian people eat these types of lunches without getting fat. Maybe it's the cigarette smoking, or the non-American portion sizes. Or maybe drinking a lot of wine with one's meals curbs the appetite.
Regardless, I was able to convince myself that my cheese-and-animal fat lunch left me skinny as a black-beret-ed French model. If possession is 9/10 of the law, I believe self-delusion is 9/10 of reality.
Viva the health food of France!
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